Screams rent the night air, waking Rori from a fitful sleep. She reached for her daggers and found nothing. The bedsheet beneath her pillows was empty. Alarmed, she sat up in the huge bed, her mind racing, eyes searching. She took a deep breath, stilling the frayed nerves that careened toward panic. The curtains were drawn on the four-poster, blocking most of the light. A faint glow could be seen beyond the fabric. She felt again beneath the pillows, gritting her teeth at the empty sheets. Those daggers were a gift from Eirlys. Priceless, yes, but of great sentimental value to her. When she found the pig-faced nipple pipe who stole them, she would rip their head off.
She stared at the bed curtains and recounted her steps after her bath. She’d sat by the fire until her hair was nearly dry, then slid beneath the covers, too exhausted to care that the wardrobes were empty and she’d had to put on her dirty clothes—a precaution she took for the sole reason that she slept in Midna’s palace. If anything happened, she would be prepared.
Rori scratched her head. She hadn’t closed the bed curtains, she was certain of it. She drew another long breath to slow her hammering heart.
After Cian had left, she’d locked the door, and she’d checked it again before getting into bed. Her hands went to her neck, where she’d tied the key to a ribbon and secured it like a necklace. Frilly lace met her fingertips and she paused, unsure what she was feeling. She’d gone to bed wearing her jeans and T-shirt. What the bloody cockleberry was this Victorian dressing gown bullshit she had on?
She tugged the duvet off and shoved the curtains open. White cotton covered her from her neck to the tips of her bare toes. She curled her feet against the cold floor and shivered. The fire had died sometime during the night, leaving her room frosty. She searched the wardrobe again, hoping to find a cardigan or wrap, but it was empty. So were the two chests in the room. Her own clothes were nowhere to be found.
A breeze snaked its way up her ankle to her very naked private parts. A full-body shiver wracked her body and she hopped to the bed, where she grabbed the duvet to wrap herself in its downy warmth. Next, she searched the hearth for firewood, kindling, and matches, but couldn’t find anything to make a fire. She was certain Cian left the matches on the mantel, but when she looked for them, the box was empty. As was the log rack beside the fireplace where wood had been when her brother left. It was as if someone had come in during the night and taken everything out of her room. If this had been Eirlys’s palace, she would’ve blamed Dorchmeir, but she doubted that dimwitted boot licker would have the nerve to enter Midna’s kingdom.
Rori sat with a huff on one of the stiff chairs and debated her choices—stay in her room, bundled up until morning, or go in search of answers.
Another scream pulled her attention to the door. She listened hard, but the only sounds she heard were her own breathing and the blood rushing through her veins. It went against her training to intervene when someone was in trouble. Don’t get involved was a familiar mantra at the Academy. Stay invisible. Keep to the mission. She knew these words as if they were written in blood on her heart. Since waking up in the forest, she’d done everything except not get involved. Why start going by the rulebook now?
Her fingers flinched from the icy knob. Wisps of condensation floated on her breath. She tightened the duvet and scrambled through the doorway into the darkened hall. Lights flickered at one end of the long corridor. Voices came from the same direction and Rori turned toward them like a poppy tracking the sun’s rays.
Cocooned as she was made walking difficult, but there was no way she would traipse around Midna’s palace in just the thin dressing gown. It took her several minutes to make her way along the carpeted floors, counting each door she passed. She’d come to fifteen when the hallway opened to a gallery, where she found her source of lights and voices.
A balustrade kept her from falling to the marble floors, and a thick pillar concealed the bulk of her, yet gave her a prime view of what was happening thirty feet below. At first, Rori didn’t understand what she saw. Bodies—some clothed, most not—writhed like hypnotized snakes. Masked courtiers stood on the fringes, watching the spectacle. Music played from somewhere beneath the gallery where she stood. Its melodic beat set the rhythm for those below. They undulated and arched like choreographed performers on stage, their cries and moans counterpoint to the music.
The more Rori studied the scene, the more she realized these must be the rumored álainn obedience of the Unseelie queen. And there, in the center of it all, was Midna.
The queen reclined on a divan, her wings fluttering to the beat, making nearby candles flicker. The interplay of light upon those near her was both ominous and sultry. They appeared as angels, then demons, depending on where any given shadow landed. Naked servants attended the masked audience, offering drinks and refreshments from glittering gold trays. Those on the outer rim of the room chatted among themselves, sometimes pointing to one group or another. Rori wished she knew what they said. For one wild moment, she wished she were down there, as one of them.
Yet, which group did she long to be part of? The masked onlookers, or with the queen? Her gaze raked over the entwined bodies back to the queen. Her wings curled in on themselves and stretched taut. One moment, her skin appeared translucent, a pearl upon the midnight fabric. A moment later, she shimmered in rainbow hues of pinks, purples, greens, and blues. With each alteration, her wings’ glow ebbed and flowed, fluttered, and furled. Rori stared, transfixed.
It had never occurred to her that wings were anything more than a status symbol. She’d never seen anyone expose them thusly before. In fact, she’d never once let her wings unfold to their full size.
A thrumming between her shoulder blades caused an itch that she sadly realized would never be scratched. She wasn’t royalty. Her wings would have to stay safely protected beneath her skin. She twitched her shoulders, quelling the insistent desire to let them free. Without success, she tried to recall when it had become law that only royalty could show their wings. Her back now felt inflamed, as if someone held a torch against her skin. It was unbearable. Was it law? Was it a rumor or empirical fact? She struggled to remember. Her mind was blank, as if that specific memory had been excised. If it wasn’t a law, then certainly just letting the gossamer folds open for a moment wouldn’t hurt.
The queen screamed and Rori took a half step toward the barrier. Her focus snapped to Midna, to the source of what had woken her. The itch across her back faded to nothing more than an irritation. Another cry ripped through the air, as if murder were being done, except Midna looked anything but a victim. Two faeries suckled the queen’s breasts, and another settled his head between the monarch’s legs. The onlookers applauded politely, their attention drawn to the divan.
Midna’s arms drooped to the side, her body limp after what Rori could only guess was her release. The three fae didn’t stop, not even when another fae joined them. His Glamour sparkled like glitter beneath a sheen of sweat. His tall body swayed as if drunk and the queen reached for him. Roughly, she grabbed his hardened cock and pulled him to her mouth.
Rori turned away, mortified at what she witnessed, and even more so by the dampness between her own legs.
Cian had warned her not to leave her room. A quickening of her heart kept her from turning back to the orgy. Her brother might be down there. An image of the tall fae swept through her mind. Similar in height and coloring to Cian, she hadn’t been focused on his face. Every nerve pinched and tightened in on itself as she debated what to do. Knowing she could never forgive herself, she cocked her head to look past the balustrade.
Rori avoided looking at Midna, tried to ignore what the queen’s mouth and hands were doing to the fae, and focused on his face. Eyes closed, his chin tilted toward the ceiling, she couldn’t be certain it wasn’t Cian.
Bloody hell, what are you doing, Rori? Go back to your room. You don’t need to know.
Yet she did. Had to be certain it wasn’t her beloved brother servicing the Unseelie queen.
One last glimpse.
She stared harder, willing the fae not to be Cian, and was rewarded with the man turning toward her, his face illuminated by a floating candle. The look of sheer bliss marking his features tore at her heart. For an instant, she wanted it to be Cian. Wanted to know her brother had experienced this kind of rapture. Since their father’s death, happiness became a stranger to her family. The fae wasn’t anyone she knew. Conflicting emotions of relief and regret battled in her tumultuous thoughts.
The fae’s glow captivated her. Longing feathered from low in her pelvis, over her thighs, up her abdomen, across her chest. The duvet slipped from her shoulders as one hand traveled between her legs, and the other cupped her left breast. Her thumb rubbed over her hardened nipple, creating more want, more desire.
To be with the others, to feel their hands on her, their lips caressing her skin—she craved their touch. The male fae at Midna’s side arched. A long moan echoed above the music. Drums beat louder and the bodies shifted with the increased tempo. Men with men, women on women: a mix of both genders entwined. They convulsed and grunted, their bodies slick with perspiration. Rori’s fingers ground against the cotton fabric in a frantic need to find release.
Another scream from the queen.
So close.
Sparks edged her vision. Her breathing came in short pulls and her body rocked to the beat of the drums.
One of the masked onlookers turned toward her, his—her?—stare like a snare. Rori gasped, aware suddenly that she was standing at the edge of the banister, where all of the crowd could see. Another step and she would’ve toppled over the edge.
Her body ached for her to continue, but she couldn’t. Wouldn’t give in to the lust twisting like a raging storm through her body. She bent to pick up the duvet and cracked her forehead on the granite pillar. Pain ricocheted across her skull. The duvet caught in her feet and she stumbled forward, tugging on the stupid thing as she raced down the hallway. At the grand stairway that led to the room below, a lone figure ascended the stairs. Rori sped faster, clasping the duvet to her chest.
The door to her room stood wide open and she raced through, spinning around to slam it shut. For several minutes, she waited with her forehead pressed against the wood, listening. No footsteps followed her. No one knocked on the door. Gradually, her breathing slowed and her heartrate lowered. The lust she’d felt dissipated to a familiar wanting, nothing more. Whatever happened with the queen, she didn’t want to be a part of it, even as an onlooker.
She crawled into the huge four-poster and curled the duvet around her body. A profound sadness wormed its way from her frazzled thoughts to the tips of her extremities, suffocating her in its severity. Why she felt as she did perplexed Rori. She didn’t want to be part of an orgy, nor did she fancy having sex with the queen. Then what?
The answer lay in her denial. No stranger to sex, Rori had never allowed herself to enjoy it, at least, not in the way she’d witnessed in the queen’s room. She lay her head upon the pillow to sort out the puzzling emotions. The awful truth was, she couldn’t recall a time she’d enjoyed sex enough to cry out, to be completely unbridled with her body. The sadness coiled and snapped within her heart. Duty first, pleasure never.
No sooner did she snuggle into the downy softness than a hard knock at the door rattled her anew. She sat upright, swearing a stream of curses at whoever had the nerve to disturb her in the middle of the night.
But when she glared at the door, sunlight streamed through the windows. Dying embers glowed red in the fireplace, and she was once more dressed in her own clothes.
“Rori, open up. I’ve got breakfast,” Cian shouted from behind the thick wood.
She felt along her neck and found the ribbon with the key. Her right hand slipped between her legs where an uncomfortable warmth remained. A dream. She’d had a bizarre dream. Had to be.
“Give me a second,” she called out and slid from the bed. At the door, she put a hand to her forehead and shook the remnants of the dream from her mind. The key made a gravelly sound as she turned it, followed by a satisfying click. The door popped open and there was Cian, looking even more haggard than the previous day, but with a huge smile lighting his face.
“I thought I was going to have to break down the door. I don’t recall you sleeping so hard, but you did say you were exhausted.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Rori took the tray and placed it on the table. “Can you stoke the fire? It’s chilly in here.”
“No time, I’m afraid. We have to eat and run. Queen Midna’s almost ready to leave.”
Still rather distracted from her unusual night, Rori nodded and sat down to tuck in to her meal. She barely tasted the porridge and fruit as she shoveled huge spoonfuls into her mouth.
“I didn’t mean it literally, Aurora.” Cian put a hand on hers. “Slow down. Chew, swallow, breathe.” He cracked a soft-boiled egg and handed it to her. “Did you sleep well?”
She took a bite of the runny goodness and swallowed before answering. “I think you might be right about Acelyne being here. I had the strangest dream.” Cian glanced at her, his greenish-brown eyes showing concern. “It seemed so real. Bizarre, though.” She scooped another spoonful of egg into her mouth.
“You stayed in your room like I asked, right?”
“I did.” But my dream self didn’t. Her cheeks burned with the memory. She rubbed her temple, noting a tender spot on her forehead. Where she’d bumped into the column. Icy pinpricks tickled across her skin. It was a dream, she insisted. A dream—nothing more. Afraid her flushed cheeks would give her away, she changed the subject. “Will the queen provide us horses to ride?”
He eyed her for several long moments and she prayed he didn’t ask any questions. After a bite of his own egg, he said, “We’re traveling in her carriage.”
“With her?”
“Of course with the queen.” Cian made a face and shook his head. “Honestly, Rori. What’s gotten into you? Are you losing your edge?”
“Never!” She reached for a dagger, but they were still beneath her pillow. She hoped. “I might not have as many missions clocked as you, but there’s nothing you can do that I can’t.”
His raised eyebrow served as an answer. She didn’t argue it further. Why bother? Cian was the best. Always had been; always would be. They both knew there were several things he could do better than her—fire a gun, for one. As much as she’d tried, she hated firearms. The sound, the feel—all of it repulsed her. Knowing him, he could fire a direct shot at forty paces with his eyes closed, a cup of tea in one hand, and still hit his mark. Friggin’ Mr. Perfect.
“Rori.” His voice dropped and her body tensed, as if a trap were about to spring and she’d find herself caged. “Is this what you want? Being an intelligence officer? Or are you only doing it because of the family?”
MacNairs had been spies for one queen or another for as long as they could trace their history. It was in her blood, as the saying went. She’d never thought about doing anything else but gathering intelligence, as Cian liked to call it. She cocked her head in thought.
“You want to know if I had a choice, right here, right now, would I choose this profession? Would I choose to put myself at risk every day for our queen?” He nodded, his eyes focused on her. “Yes, I would. Mum gave me a choice, you know. When I was thirteen, she asked what I’d like to be when I grew up. Kids never know, do they? They’ll tell you a sorcerer, or a blacksmith, because that’s what caught their attention that day, but I’ve always known. Even before Dad died, I knew I wanted a life bigger than Faerie.”
“Bigger than Faerie.” A snort and shake of his head were followed by a chuckle. “You’ve got that, all right. But Rori, we’re not in competition. Stop trying to best me and just be you. Be Rori MacNair, not Cian MacNair’s little sister.” He held her chin between his thumb and forefinger, his gaze steady. “You are, as the humans are wont to say, a total badass. I’m proud to call you kin.”
The intensity of his stare staggered her. His words cut straight to her heart. If she were honest with herself, she knew his words were true. She’d been in a silent competition with her brother for most of her life. Everything she did was tagged with what she thought he’d think of her. To hear him say he was proud of her meant everything. Tears stung her eyes and she blinked hard. A flippant reply sprang to her lips, but she refused to say anything to diminish the moment.
“Thank you.”
“You’re harder on yourself than anyone else. Queen Eirlys knows your loyalty is without question. Mum knows how devoted you are to your work. You mistake building walls around your heart for emotional control. They aren’t the same at all. You can love and be loved and still be an excellent spy. Mum and Dad are proof of that. You don’t have to be alone. Believe in yourself, Rori. Trust this.” He placed his hand over her heart and an odd wooziness swept over her. Those words, and that action, were exactly what the strange woman Taryn had said and done.
Maybe Rori had been mistaking cockiness with confidence. Maybe it was time she stopped trying to prove herself to everyone and be, as Cian said, totally badass, but not in a lethal, quiet way like her brother. In her own way. Whatever that was.
“I will.”
He removed his hand from her heart and held his mug but didn’t drink from it. His fingers tapped nervously on the table.
So, even cool-headed Cian could get ruffled. Rori tucked the information aside. Seeing her brother in this light was refreshing. Instead of teasing him, she asked, “How long do you think you’ll be on this mission?” She didn’t want to ask him why he looked so haggard, or whether he’d ever shared Midna’s bed, but the thoughts were hidden behind her question.
“I’m not sure. I think I’ve uncovered everything here that I can, but it’s possible I missed something.”
“I doubt that.” Her quip was drowned by a gulp of tea.
“Have you heard from Mum?”
“Not since I’ve been back, but then, I’ve been busy.” Rori still hadn’t forgiven her mum for moving away from the Seelie Court when she’d retired. Labhruinn MacNair had stayed on as Eirlys’s captain of the guard until Rori entered the Academy, then quietly left her position and moved to a tiny village in the middle of nowhere. To Rori, it felt like abandonment. That was only half the truth. Rori choked back the other half with a bite of toast.
“I’ll send her a note letting her know you’re doing well.” He rested his hand over hers and gave a squeeze with his fingers.
“I’d appreciate that.”
Using him as her personal messenger caused a momentary flinch of guilt. She really should take a few days and visit her mum. It wasn’t Labhruinn’s fault their dad went missing, and it wasn’t her fault that both Cian and Rori chose to follow their dad’s career path. Their mum had never been anything but understanding and supportive. She deserved more than Rori gave her. So did Cian.
“Tell her I’ll come see her soon.”
Surprise crossed Cian’s features and he grinned. “It’s about time.”
It was past time. She missed her mum more than she’d realized.
“Cian, there’s something I’ve never told anyone and maybe you should know.” His other hand snaked across the table to cover hers. His eyes stayed on her face, encouragement mixed with caution. “It’s about Dad.”
A strange flash cut across his features, one of agony, then it was gone.
“What about him?”
“The day he died, I was at Gran’s, in the garden.” The words caught in her throat. This was harder than she’d thought it would be, but her gut told her it was time he knew the truth. “I was at Gran’s, practicing warping and weaving magic like Dad taught us, when all of a sudden I felt like my whole body was on fire. Not just on fire, but ants crawled all over me and spiders were biting me over and over again.” Tears stung the backs of her eyes with the memory. “I lost control of my magic. Or something. I don’t know what happened, but I had no control of it. Like, someone else was in charge and using it against me.”
Cian wiped the tears that rolled down her cheeks. “That happens to even the best mages. Sometimes we use more than we’re ready for.”
“No.” She shook her head, letting several cobalt locks hide her face. “It wasn’t like that. I never stretched myself too much. I always knew my limits. Dad used to commend me for my control. But that day—it hurt, Cian.”
“I’m sorry. Why haven’t you told me before now?”
Rori took a deep breath. This was the hard part of her story. The part she hid even from herself. “Because, what if something I did caused Dad to disappear?”
Cian left his chair to kneel beside her and enfolded her body with his strong arms. “Beautiful, sweet, lethal Rori. You had nothing to do with Dad’s disappearance. Nothing.” He stroked her hair and made soft comforting sounds until she sniffed and wiped the tears from her face.
Once the words had been spoken, they didn’t weigh as heavy in her heart, but she wasn’t ready to believe him yet. Doubts lingered despite his assurances.
Outside her room, a page rang a bell, loudly calling out that the queen would soon be departing.
Cian pressed his hands to the sides of her face and kissed her forehead. “Don’t torture yourself over something out of your control.” He rose and clapped his hands as if that were done, and nothing more should be said on the matter.
One last shovel of porridge followed by a long drink of tea and she stood. “We should get a wiggle on. Wouldn’t want to keep the queen waiting and all that.” She retrieved her daggers from beneath the pillows where she’d left them the previous night. Her leather jacket hung on the back of a chair and she swished it up to shove her arms through. An instant of regret pinched her heart. Arianna was no longer sleeping in the hidden pocket. Even though the princess had been comatose, Rori had liked having the wee lass close. Arianna gave her purpose. She’d had someone to protect other than herself and for that brief time, it had felt good to have someone to care for. To save a life rather than taking one.
Cian checked his reflection while she finished dressing. He was a handsome guy, her brother. And he knew it. In fact, he used his looks as part of his arsenal of weapons. She studied him as he adjusted his jacket. Cut like a long sport coat, or manteau, it could easily pass for human or fae clothing. Same for the dark pants he wore. His shoes, however, gave him away. Handmade Italian loafers that she knew for a fact cost just under two grand. She looked at her scuffed boots and shrugged. They were a fraction of the price and equally as functional.
“Hey,” she said as they exited her room, leaving the tray on the table, “remember that weird vision in a vision I told you about?” Rori looked at Cian from beneath her lashes. “Do you know what ShantiMari is? Or what a Darennsai is? The woman said these things, and she knew me, Cian. But I’ve never seen her before—I would swear my life on it. Have you ever heard of someone named Taryn? Silver hair, blue eyes?”
Cian cocked his head in thought. “No, can’t say I ever have. Why?”
“I don’t know. Just, I met her within that illusion and I have a feeling she was actually outside of the illusion.”
“You’re not making sense.”
“None of this makes sense. An enchantress, missing fae, the queens meeting—I can’t shake the feeling something big is happening to Faerie, but we’re the last to know. And maybe we’re pawns in some greater scheme.”
Cian placed his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “We’re intelligence officers, Rori. It’s our job to know before anyone else what happens. What do you think is going on?” He tapped her heart, then her belly. “In here. Like I said, trust these.” His last tap was to her forehead. “And this. In our profession, they are the only things you can trust.”
“You can always trust me, big brother. Not even torture could make me betray you.”
He kissed the top of her head before letting his arm fall away. “Nor me, you.”
They wove their way through the dozen or so carriages to the only white one of the bunch. All the others were drab brown, or sickly black, but the queen’s shone like a star among the rabble. Rori suppressed a shake of her head and roll of her eyes.
“Nothing like shouting to the world, ‘I’m here!’ Doesn’t she have an ounce of humility?”
“Don’t be so quick to judge. Being queen isn’t just about gowns and crowns.” Cian glanced down at Rori. “It’s a lonely position that demands a lot physically and emotionally. Queens might look like they’re receiving, but it’s what they’re giving that takes the toll.”
The dream, of the fae suckling Midna’s breasts as if being fed by the queen, crashed across her thoughts. A warm tingling spiraled from her core and she shoved the memory to the far reaches of her mind. She did not need to think of Midna like that. Ever.
Cian opened the carriage door for her and she dropped a half curtsey with a sloppy grin. He batted her on the back of the head and she laughed as she ducked into the cool dark of the interior. The laughter died in the back of her throat when she saw the Unseelie queen sprawled on the cushions. Her lavender hair cascaded over her shoulders to curl around a barely concealed breast. Not that Midna’s garments did much to hide her nudity. Rori scrambled into the seat opposite and averted her eyes. The warmth spread from her core to her outer extremities. It was going to be a long, uncomfortable trip to the vale.
“What took you? We’ve been waiting ages.”
“You know that’s not true, ma’am. The Unseelie queen waits for no one. You only just arrived before we did,” Cian chided.
The queen harrumphed and sat upright, straightening the voluminous skirts of her floaty, transparent gown.
“I see you’ve dressed for practicality.” Her brother settled into the cushions, crossing his right ankle over his left knee.
How he could remain unaffected by the queen, Rori couldn’t guess. The woman’s scent alone was a distraction. Perfume? Sex? She swallowed a bitter lump of discomfort and gazed out the window. The rest of the carriages were loaded and ready. The horses lunged forward, knocking Rori backward. A loud thunk sounded when her head connected with wood.
“Futnuckers!” The word was out before she could stop it and she stared at the queen in horror. “Your Majesty, please forgive me.”
Midna’s laughter was unexpected but appreciated. “Please, Rori. You have nothing to fear from me. Swearing is nothing more than words said with passion. Just words.” The queen leaned forward, exposing her breasts, and Rori glanced away. “Dear girl,” she tilted Rori’s face to look at her own, “the things I could teach you. Your brother tells me you’re talented, but by the blush staining your cheeks, I don’t think you’re as learned as you should be. Spying isn’t a game for the easily shocked.” Rori’s eyes widened and again, that wonderful sound of Midna’s laughter filled the carriage. “You must learn to give in to your desires, but in a controlled way. I can help you with that.”
“With all due respect, no thank you, ma’am.” Mortification didn’t come close to what Rori was feeling. That Midna would dangle her breasts like ripe pieces of fruit, there for the taking, and offer to school Rori in the ways of making love—it was more than an insult. The queen had called Rori innocent, at the very least. The nerve of the woman. She could hardly breathe for the anger pooling inside her gut. It was anger, wasn’t it?
The smile on Midna’s face held sadness and something else—disappointment. “I sense a schism within you, Aurora MacNair. A division between your heart and your mind that serves no purpose except to court danger.” Her head cocked to the side and she nodded as if making an internal decision. “Yes, you believe the rumors. You think my álainn obedience are sex slaves. That they are to be pitied, yes? I tell you true—every one of them is there by choice. Their reasons for coming to my court are their own, but they all come of their own volition. I don’t force anyone into service, nor do I make them stay. Do you know why they choose to stay?”
Rori shook her head. The scent of the woman, the confines of the carriage, the images of her álainn obedience were clouding her judgment, confusing her thoughts. They chose to stay. All of them.
“They stay because it isn’t about sex or carnal desires. They stay to learn control—of their heart, their mind, and yes, their body. They learn how to give pleasure as well as receive it. Life is a balance, and in my court, you discover your true self—not who you pretend to be.”
The sense of being on display, of being under a microscope where Midna could see into her deepest, darkest corners and shine a light on her vulnerabilities, caused her to shrink into the fabric, but the Unseelie queen gripped her face between long fingers.
“Do not hide from who you are, Rori. Never feel shame for what you desire.”
Vaguely aware of Cian’s presence, Rori tried to deny she desired anything, but it rang false. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Well.” Midna traced a finger down Rori’s cheek to her lips. Her breath came in stuttered pulls, her chest rising and lowering in spurts. The queen’s nail scraped into the soft skin. Adding insult, Midna moaned as if the action were sexually fulfilling. Rori struggled to calm her runaway heart. “If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.” The queen sat back, removing her touch from Rori’s face, and focused on Cian. “Now then, tell me how you’re progressing with the investigation.”
The change of tone and attitude startled Rori. Even Midna’s clothing altered with her business-like demeanor. Her hair paled to flaxen waves and the floaty, see-through gown became soft velvet, in a deep Bordeaux color. Even Midna’s skin shifted from a shimmery abalone to dull cream. The control this woman had over her magic was impressive.
Rori could barely control the whorls of emotion fighting within her heart and mind. The dichotomy of desire and disgust penetrated every cell, every fiber of her body. It was enough to drive her to madness. With grudging respect, Rori had to admit the queen could teach her many things. Not just sexually, but about so much she didn’t know. She had a feeling the Unseelie queen was the greatest spy of them all.